


love your friends, die laughing

by hereisthepart



Series: love and great buildings [3]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-26 04:50:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hereisthepart/pseuds/hereisthepart
Summary: “What I love most about our friendship is that there aren’t any surprises anymore,” Soonyoung replies, delighted. Well. “Except for the part where you’re in a fun, committed relationship.”Jihoon looks at him, smiling even as he shakes his head. “You’re trying to make me break out into hives and it’s not going to work.”“I know,” Soonyoung says, cupping his cheeks. He squishes them, pinching both between his fingers and stretching out, smiling wider when Jihoon just lets him. “It’s very weird. Are you feeling okay?”





	love your friends, die laughing

**Author's Note:**

> To the FBI agent assigned to my phone: sorry you also had to see those "Free! body pillow" photos I googled in an incognito window. I think I'll just make a blanket statement that while these are posted in real time (mostly) and do follow a linear structure of events, you don't necessarily have to read each one before it. That being said, most of these will end up referencing the others in some way shape or form. Title is from Man Overboard's [Love Your Friends, Die Laughing](https://open.spotify.com/track/6KkcL4OkeMDy54S9z82xW0?si=9cEllpdsT5iYgMXUMdCyzg). As always, you can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/ljhmyg) or [cc](https://curiouscat.me/ljhmyg).  


* * *

The door opens to Jihoon with his toothbrush jammed in his mouth and a bird’s nest for hair. Crusty-eyed, he squints at Soonyoung with his stuffed backpack and armful of pillows and his favorite throw blanket. Jihoon brushes back and forth a few times, thoughtful, looking first at Soonyoung and then at his pillow. 

He takes the toothbrush out of his mouth to point.

“Is that a Free! body pillow?”

“I bought it just for the occasion. It’s your housewarming present.”

Jihoon pauses, and then keeps brushing, shaking his head as he leaves Soonyoung in the doorway. “Can’t believe you walked around in public with that.”

“Actually, I had it overnighted to your place, I opened it in front of your apartment.”

Jihoon stops with his back to Soonyoung, lifting his head to the ceiling, the toothbrush forgotten in his hand. 

“Don’t worry, I put the packaging in my car, I’m going to recycle it.”

“I genuinely hate you a little bit,” Jihoon tells him, lifting his free hand in the direction of the sofa, his toothbrush back in his mouth as he disappears into his room. “Puyer uff air, Ingyu’s etting eady or ork.”

“Oh, sure,” Soonyoung calls, pretending to understand. He beams when he sees the layout in front of the sofa. Jihoon bought both of their favorite snacks it looks like, the series’ he owns on Blu-Ray spread out like a stack of magazines in a doctor’s office, a couple of blankets and pillows of his own in the mix. He slides his backpack off, catching it with one hand to unzip it. “Cute!”

The rushed sound of spitting and then, in a crystal clear voice: 

“Mingyu did that!”

“No, I didn’t,” Mingyu says, appearing in the living room, just finishing rolling up the sleeve of a white button-up. He smiles at Soonyoung. “Morning, hyung.”

The backpack wilts in Soonyoung’s grip. 

Mingyu has a fancy-looking briefcase with a strap strung across his chest. Soonyoung’s brain feels like it’s leaking out of his ears. “Wow–I mean. Hi,” he corrects, shaking his head. Mingyu presses his lips together to avoid laughing. “You–morning. You look hot.”

Mingyu looks down, hands in his pockets. “You think?”

“Is it like, a sexy architect costume?”

“It’s the 4th of October.” Mingyu cocks his head. “I wear this every day?”

“That’s good,” Soonyoung nods, flopping down onto the mound of blankets on the sofa. “It’s good to feel sexy at least once a day.” 

“Hyung have you ever had a filter,” Mingyu asks gently, laughing, and Soonyoung watches Jihoon shuffle back out, rubbing an eye but looking decidedly more awake. 

Soonyoung opens his mouth–

“He,” Jihoon starts, “and I cannot stress this enough, _hasn’t_.”

Oh, to be known for who you truly are. Soonyoung shoots a finger gun at him, clicking his tongue; Jihoon narrowly avoids a smile, but Soonyoung can see his dimples, so it still feels like he won. He settles his backpack at his feet, to dig through its contents. 

“Anyway, you can finish doing whatever you’re doing, I know I’m early.” 

“He’s always early,” Jihoon sighs, “he gets too excited.” 

“You’ve been talking about this for days,” Mingyu tells him, one part accusatory and one part amused. Soonyoung almost looks, but doesn’t. Instead he smiles quietly to himself, and takes out some snacks of his own. 

“Shh,” Jihoon says, a smile in his voice. And, softer: “Are you coming here tonight?” 

“Depends on if you want me to. I don’t want to interrupt.”

“I know I’m not supposed to be listening,” Soonyoung says, looking towards them, “but Jihoon has two hands, and I don’t mind if you come over after work.” 

Jihoon studies Soonyoung for a moment, then shrugs and looks up at Mingyu. “Impenetrable math.”

Mingyu laughs–it’s a sweet sound, one of those squeaks of his underneath it–and he cups Jihoon’s cheeks, crouching a bit to kiss him. Soonyoung watches two things happen: Jihoon forget where he is, and then immediately remember again. His eyes flick to Soonyoung after, who resolutely turns his head and does not look in their direction again until they’re in the entryway, Mingyu bending down to put on his shoes. 

“You’ll do great today,” Jihoon is saying in the same, low voice. 

When Mingyu straightens, he fidgets, gripping the strap of his bag lying across his chest tight with both hands. “What if they don’t like the designs?”

“Then you try again next time,” Jihoon says, simple. His fingers curl over Mingyu’s, gentle in the way they loosen his hands out of their death grip. “But for what it’s worth,” spoken directly to Mingyu’s clavicle, “I think they’re amazing.” 

The faint smile that tugs at Mingyu’s mouth looks like every set of lyrics Jihoon has sent him over the last year and some-odd months, first in increasing desperation, then with an openness Soonyoung, even now, is attempting to wrap his head around. He watches Mingyu, playful, bonk Jihoon on the crown of his head with his chin, watches Jihoon snort and snake a hand around Mingyu’s waist to press in at the small of his back, watches Mingyu stumble forward, one step, two–

He braces himself with a forearm on the wall behind Jihoon’s head, ducks his own to whisper something directly into Jihoon’s ear–

Jihoon laughs, short and sharp, head thrown back. He stands on tiptoe to kiss Mingyu, just once, tugging on his briefcase strap for balance, before returning to earth. He pats Mingyu’s butt absentmindedly, opening the door with his free hand. Soonyoung absolutely does not react when Mingyu volleys glances between them as he speaks, “Okay, have fun–bye hyung!–love you,” and Jihoon doesn’t _immediately_ burst into flames due to the horrors of being seen by another human being at his most vulnerable, those early hours of the morning when the world is dream-like and soft, not quite kickstarted into motion just yet.

He just smiles and says, “Have a good day,” a hand pressed delicately to the center of Mingyu’s chest, shutting the door a moment later. 

The upturn to his mouth is still there when his eyes find Soonyoung, who says nothing, but watches Jihoon pull back the blankets and sink down next to him. His phone chimes from inside his pocket. Jihoon digs it out, checks it, bites back a smile as he replies and tosses it to the other end of the sofa.

“Jihoonie-ah,” Soonyoung starts, careful, only 95% a joke, “do you want to marry Mingyu?”

Jihoon closes his eyes. “If you ever say that sentence out loud to me again, I’ll.” 

He opens his eyes and stares at the TV.

Soonyoung scoots closer. “You didn’t finish.”

A pause.

“I think I blacked out.”

“Yeah, makes sense,” Soonyoung says.

* * *

Comically, the two of them both have their Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood boxsets out (bought for each other at separate occasions, through extreme miscommunication), and even though the plan _was_ to catch up on any number of animes they’re both behind on, Jihoon looks between the boxsets and says, “Yesterday was the 3rd.”

“I feel like…” Soonyoung clutches Rin’s pec to his cheek. “It’s illegal if we _don’t_ watch it?”

“Please take that with you when you go back home.”

“If you don’t keep it, I’m going to get you a different character as a present for a year,” Soonyoung says, smiling sweetly. “Maybe the moody one with the bangs next.” 

“Like you don’t know their names and probably already had that body pillow bookmarked before realizing you couldn’t pass up the opportunity to buy me something I’d hate,” Jihoon says all at once in a bored voice, rising from the sofa to grab one of the boxsets and crouch in front of his PS4.

“What I love most about our friendship is that there aren’t any surprises anymore,” Soonyoung replies, delighted. Well. “Except for the part where you’re in a fun, committed relationship.”

With a deep, resigned sigh, Jihoon slides the first disc in, smiling even as he shakes his head and closes up the boxset. He snatches up the controller, sinking back down next to Soonyoung, who’s holding out the blankets for him.

Jihoon looks at him. “You’re trying to make me break out into hives and it’s not going to work.”

“I know,” Soonyoung says, cupping his cheeks. He squishes them, pinching both between his fingers and stretching out, smiling wider when Jihoon just lets him. “It’s very weird. Are you feeling okay?”

Jihoon laughs under his breath, eyes shut, a borderline _giggle_, his hands wrapping around Soonyoung’s wrists, the one with the controller knocking soft into his cheek. Soonyoung keeps leaning with his weight, pushing Jihoon onto his back. “I’m only kidding,” he says, the blankets tangled between their bodies, body pillow shoved to the floor as an afterthought. “I think it’s nice. And you’re not weird for being happy.”

The main screen is stagnant, Jihoon’s controller forgotten in his hand. He’s looking at Soonyoung again, and Soonyoung thinks _whoops_, and wrinkles his nose, feeling guilty about whatever nerve he just struck, an insecurity spoken out loud that’s too on the nose.

“It feels like it,” Jihoon says, after a moment. 

His free hand is at the nape of Soonyoung’s neck.

“Just because you aren’t used to it doesn’t mean it’s bad.”

“I know.” One-handed, he scrolls to the drive the Blu-Ray is in; the screen turns black. “It just–hurts a little sometimes.”

Nonplussed, Soonyoung asks, “Why?”

With a half-hearted shrug, gaze on the screen: “Your eyes have to adjust after being in the dark. Always kind of feel like I’ll get too used to this. We’re not doing dub this time.”

Mustang stands with his back to an imposing, ornate double-door. Soonyoung cranes his neck awkwardly. It seems incongruent to say, “That’s fine–you know I love you the same, whether you’re happy or sad, right?” when there’s a half naked guy on a body pillow on the floor beneath them, but Soonyoung figures they’ve been friends for this long. Some things just need to be said out loud, no matter what, even when you feel like you shouldn’t have to.

Jihoon doesn’t say anything, head still turned towards the screen, but his fingers curl in Soonyoung’s hair. 

There’s a crick in his neck; Soonyoung puts his head down. He grabs the remote from Jihoon and places it on top of Rin’s dick for safekeeping. 

“Gimme your hand,” he says, and Jihoon rolls his eyes faintly, but his mouth twitches and he plops it down on his chest. Soonyoung reaches for it, twines their fingers together and holds them under his chin.

After a beat, he says, “We’re skipping the chimera stuff.”

Teasing, a lock of Soonyoung’s hair around his finger: “I thought you said you’d love me even when I was sad.”

Soonyong snorts, and presses Jihoon’s knuckles to his mouth.

* * *

They’re halfway through part two after a small break for breakfast and snacks when Soonyoung, pillowed on Jihoon’s chest again, says, “I’m seeing someone, kind of.”

Jihoon hums, curious. “Kind of?”

“Well–I don’t. He’s got this dance company with one of his friends, but they’re in between storefronts so he’s renting out the studio to workshop. Sometimes our schedules overlap, so we started getting drinks. And then dinner. And then–”

“Dick–” Jihoon guesses.

“Yes,” Soonyoung says with a single, solemn nod.

“You slept with him yet?” He nods again. “How was it?”

Soonyoung thinks about this. “Bendy.”

Jihoon sounds like he’s smiling when he says, “Yeah, so is Mingyu.” He doesn’t pause FMA:B–Soonyoung would probably yell at him if he did, honestly–but he does turn it down. “You don’t know if it’s a friends with benefits thing or if he likes you?”

“No. I don’t know. It’s been really fun.” Soonyoung rubs his face against Jihoon’s pec for a few seconds. “It’s all kind of chaotic. I think he might also be into his _other_ friend, who is _exceedingly_ beautiful in a way I did not think it was possible for another human being to achieve in this lifetime or the next–”

“Move on–”

“–so, I don’t know, what if I’m getting in the middle of that, even though I’ve slept with him, too–?”

Jihoon splutters, “_What_–?”

“It’s fine,” Soonyoung talks loudly over him, “everyone knows everything and we are all good and they keep inviting me out anyway!”

“Youngie-ah, for the love of all that is good and right in this _world_,” Jihoon tugs roughly on his hair until Soonyoung picks his head up to look at him. “I bet you a billion won they want to have a threesome, you idiot.” 

“Oh. Okay,” Soonyoung says, leaning heavy over Jihoon’s middle to grab his phone off the floor. 

“What are you doing?”

“Texting them.” Soonyoung wriggles the arm wedged between his body and Jihoon’s out. He makes a new group chat. “I’m not doing anything tomorrow.”

In a strangled voice, Jihoon says, “Your lack of impulse control stresses me out.”

“Why? We’ve had some of our horniest moments together that way,” Soonyoung says, to which Jihoon pouts, no doubt briefly recalling some fun, clumsy memory also running through Soonyoung’s mind before sighing, “Yeah.”

Soonyoung’s phone chimes; he opens the notification and shivers. “They told me to come over at sunset.”

“They _live together_?” Jihoon wails, a hand over his eyes. “How are you a _person_?”

“Trial and error, mostly.” 

Jihoon laughs, deep in his chest, rumbling Soonyoung like the world’s cutest mini earthquake: a .5 to the rest of the world but a 10 straight to Soonyoung’s heart.

“Your relationship problems are not typical relationship problems,” he tells Soonyoung.

“Just because you and Mingyu have never talked about it–”

He pauses, but only because Jihoon does–a nearly imperceptible tensing to his body that Soonyoung is sure only he or Seungcheol would notice. Soonyoung feels as though someone has been vigorously shaking him like a carbonated soft drink for the past two decades and here Jihoon is, his finger on the tab, threatening to shoot Soonyoung off.

“With _who_?!”

Jihoon shoves at him, flipping the blankets off to rise from the sofa. “None of your business!”

Buried under blankets and pillows, Soonyoung shouts: “_ME_?”

“GROSS!”

He can’t tell where Jihoon is, but then he hears the water running in the bathroom, and when Jihoon comes back out, his cheeks are damp and a teeny, tiny bit flushed.

Soonyoung offers up some airtight logic: “You’ve literally had a hand on my dick before.”

“Yeah,” Jihoon says, with feeling. “I know.”

“I can’t believe you won’t tell me.”

“We’re not even–it’s just one of those things, I don’t know. A what if–shut up.”

“It’s okay that it’s not me,” Soonyoung says, rolling onto his back. “I get it, you don’t love me the most anymore.”

He _is_ teasing when he says it, only the moment the words leave his mouth, he feels so unexpectedly small. His brows knit together, almost in confusion. Jihoon’s do, too. 

“Yah,” he says, but with a note of unsurety.

Soonyoung shrugs, smiling at the screen. He’s not watching when Jihoon first sits on the arm of the sofa, and then sinks down onto the end, knees pulled up to his chest. He reaches out to squeeze the closest part of Soonyoung he can reach: a bare ankle.

“It’s just different.” 

“How?”

“I don’t know–it’s not that I suddenly don’t think Mingyu will leave. I’m terrified he’ll leave. I have to trust that he won’t.” He squeezes Soonyoung’s ankle again; Soonyoung peeks.

“With you–there was never a question.” 

“It’s dumb,” Soonyoung starts, shaking his head, all the breath leaving him when Jihoon crawls forward, settling heavy behind him, an arm around his waist. “I’m not eighteen and jealous–I love Mingyu–”

“I know,” Jihoon says, placating. “But you know I can never shake you off. I mean, I tried.”

Soonyoung’s cheeks lift. He tucks his face into the seat cushion. “Not that hard.”

“No,” Jihoon says with a faint smile of his own, buried at the nape of Soonyoung’s neck. “Not that hard.”

He closes his eyes, the TV still running low volume. It’s calming, Jihoon’s chest rising and falling behind him, pushing against his back. Soonyoung holds that sense of tranquility and peace deep in his heart…

And then he says, “Is it Minghao?”

“Please stop speaking to me.”

* * *

Soonyoung must fall asleep later on in the day, because when he wakes up, it’s to a knock on the door and near-pitch blackness, the two of them both too lazy to turn on a light. At the sound, Soonyoung can see the way Jihoon blooms, petals unfolding bit by bit. 

“He has a key,” he sighs, eyes flicking to the door. “And he already _asked_.”

“I think he doesn’t want to bother us,” Soonyoung whispers, and Jihoon pulls this _face_–

A little like he’s overwhelmed, a little like he is so filled with good feelings he’s not sure what to do now that they spill over all the time. It makes something tug in Soonyoung’s chest. Mingyu is tenderhearted and exceedingly patient, and it inexplicably makes Soonyoung remember whoever Jihoon was before he left:

A sad boy with an angry, drawn face, so accustomed to the dark that any amount of thoughtfulness felt like a thousand volts of shock to his system, to the tension on the hinges in his shoulders, always up near his ears; to whatever part of his brain that convinced him he was not built to accept kindness.

There’s a softer knock the second time. Jihoon’s fingers squeeze Soonyoung’s and then gently loosen. Head still turned towards the door, he cups Soonyoung’s face for a brief moment in apology before sliding out from underneath him, turning a floor lamp on as he goes.

It seems impossible that one person could change so much in such small ways. That Jihoon could want to be seen when he’s spent so much time and energy since Soonyoung has known him trying to break himself into neatly manageable parts. 

From Soonyoung’s vantage point, he can see Jihoon open the door, and that Mingyu is smiling, already sheepish. 

“I’m not staying.” He’s whispering. “I just wanted to grab my portfolio so I can work on it tomorrow–”

“Mingyu-yah, stay,” Soonyoung says, sitting up. 

Mingyu looks over Jihoon’s head. “Oh? But it’s your...day.”

“We can share,” he replies, grinning when Jihoon thumps his head against Mingyu’s clavicle, arms wrapping around his middle. 

Somehow, Mingyu manages to slip off his shoes, hang up his bag, close the door behind him, and waddle forward with Jihoon attached to him. He’s smiling in that cute cartoon mouse way he does sometimes–mouth pursed, apples of his cheeks rounder, lifted–and wraps his arms around Jihoon’s shoulders, groaning happily when they hug. 

“Okay,” he says, holding Jihoon’s hand for a moment before disappearing into the other room. “I’ll change.” 

Jihoon drops down on the middle cushion, lifting an arm so Soonyoung can tuck in close. When Mingyu comes back out, he’s wearing joggers and a too-tight shirt; Jihoon and Soonyoung both follow him as he drops to Jihoon’s other side. 

After they settle–Jihoon with a leg thrown over Mingyu’s knee–Soonyoung stage whispers, “Are you _sure_ it can’t be me?”

With all of the exhaustion that comes from being Kwon Soonyoung’s best friend, Jihoon lets his head fall back, chuckling. 

Mingyu asks, “Why is the shark teeth guy from the fish anime on a pillow on your floor?”

“I’m leaving you,” Jihoon deadpans, eyes closed.

“He can't cook as good as me,” Mingyu says, holding his hand. "Doesn't even have a physical form. Who will you climb on top of when you're bored?"

"Arguably, the pillow–" Soonyoung starts, but Jihoon lets out a short, strangled laugh and clamps down on his shoulder.

"My kingdom to choke you."

"Can't do that with the pillow either," Mingyu grumbles, and Jihoon laughs again, light, and Soonyoung is sure he could bottle this feeling and take it with him wherever he goes. Joy, condensed to its purest form, a familiarity underneath it all that lets you get away with telling the truth in between all the bullshit.

(Even if the truth is about anime body pillows.) 

* * *


End file.
